


The Fallen Star

by AXEe



Series: Head Games [6]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-01 12:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18800626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/pseuds/AXEe
Summary: Hello all! Here's another GD Human AU.   This one is partly inspired by the 1950 classic noir film "Sunset Boulevard" starring Gloria Swanson and William Holden, expect we won't be seeing anybody pull a Norma Desmond here (not that Laura Benanti couldn't do it that is :=).Another source of inspiration was my love for old movies and rhe sad fact that so many great actors had sadly been forgotten, or only remembered for one particular role or one type of role.Anywho, please enjoy! :=)





	1. Out in the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Here's another GD Human AU. This one is partly inspired by the 1950 classic noir film "Sunset Boulevard" starring Gloria Swanson and William Holden, expect we won't be seeing anybody pull a Norma Desmond here (not that Laura Benanti couldn't do it that is :=).
> 
> Another source of inspiration was my love for old movies and rhe sad fact that so many great actors had sadly been forgotten, or only remembered for one particular role or one type of role.
> 
> Anywho, please enjoy! :=)

******

The flat tire was the least of her problems Alex decided as she stood in the pouring rain. No, she decided, the dead battery was the biggest problem.

Looking around, she found that the street was largely empty, what looked like largely abandoned homes lined either side. They appeared to have once been grand, almost-mansion-like homes but were now abandoned, the once-manicured lawns were now overgrown with weeds, windows were boarded and shuttered, and, in the case of some, holes pockmarked the roofs. All and all, it was an empty, deserted neighborhood. It had probably once been home to the upper crust of National City’s elite, but now, who knew. 

It was like that up and down the entire street, expect for the one at the very end. Squinting, Alex could just make out lights coming from the last house at the very end of the street. Curious, she waved, hoping to attract somebody’s attention.

As luck would have it, one of the lights in one of the windows flickered on and then off in response. Shivering as the rain started to come down harder, she watched in relief as a figure with an umbrella jogged down the street to her.

“Are you all right?” the man asked in a distinct British accent.

“Yeah, I am,” Alex answered “my car, not so much,” she absently wiped at the rain “look, I hate to ask, but would you mind if stayed at your place? Just until the tow truck gets here?”

The man seemed to consider it, then nodded.

“Come on,” he invited, quickly ushering her down the street back to the house “my name is Non” he introduced himself.

“Alex” she replied, shivering as they crossed the threshold into a smaller, more modest dwelling. The furnishings were older, slightly out of fashion, but well cared for; the sofa was big and plushy, as were the two matching armchairs; clearly this guy and whoever else lived here had made this place into a home rather than into a fashion statement.

“You’re welcome to use the shower,” Non offered as he put the umbrella away “just up the stairs, third door on the right” he instructed.

Too cold to answer, Alex merely nodded, her teeth audibly chattering as she made her way up the stars. Reaching the landing, she had just reached for the doorknob to the third door on her right when another door opened.

Turning at the startled gasp, Alex held up her hands in what she hoped was a non-threatening gesture. The other woman was older than her, her ling curly dark hair offset by a long streak of white. She stood in the doorway of what appeared to be a bedroom, one hand tightly gripping the doorframe in a white-knuckle grip, her expression clearly terrified, her bright grey-green eyes wide.

Before Alex could say anything, footsteps pounded up the stairs behind her. Non swiftly appeared, quickly coming over to the other woman.

“Astra,” he breathed, gently taking her shoulders “it’s all right” he soothed.

“You said that you were going to see if she needed help, you didn’t say that you were going to bring her here” the woman now identified as ‘Astra’ snarled out in clear annoyance.

“Would you rather I have left her out in the rain?” Non countered.

Looking between, Astra finally looked at Alex.

“You got a name, kid?” she asked.

“Um, yeah,” Alex nodded somewhat stupidly “Alex, Alex Danvers”

Astra nodded stiffly.

“You leave as soon as your car’s fixed” she stated, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

Dimly, Alex nodded, not wanting to argue. As Non led Astra back into the room, Alex continued on to her original destination; namely a hot shower. But as she stepped into the tub, she couldn’t help but frown.

That woman Astra sure looked familiar for some reason…

******

The tow truck had arrived by the time Alex had climbed out of the shower. Finding a set of clean clothes had been set out for her, she quickly got dressed and made her way downstairs, finding Non standing by the front door, umbrella at the ready.

“Ms. Danvers” he held open the door for her.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she waved to the tow truck driver “sorry about scaring your wife back there” she apologized.

“She’s not my wife” Non replied as he walked her back down to her car.

“Oh? Sorry, I guess I thought…,” she trailed off, not sure ‘what’ she thought “is she somebody famous or something?” she found herself asking “because she looks familiar”

Non chuckled as they reached her car.

“You’re too young to remember I suspect,” he remarked “look up ‘Astra Inze’,” he suggested as he helped into the tow truck’s cab “you might be surprised at what you’ll find” he added with a mysterious smirk.

With that odd remark, he nodded politely and calmly made his way back down the street…

******

Getting home over two hours later had, unsurprisingly, earning Alex a pair of disapproving looks from her parents, followed by some more sympathetic ones after she explained what had happened.

“You’re lucky those people helped you out” Eliza commented as Alex buddle herself up on the couch under a throw.

“I’ll say,” Jeremiah agreed as he came over with a big bowl of popcorn “c’mon, kiddo,” he playfully nudged Alex to the side “movie time”

“Oh, Dad,” Alex groaned “not those bad b-movies again” she pleaded.

“Too late,” Jeremiah grinned “you weren’t here for the vote”

“I had car trouble!” Alex objected as Eliza—not wanting to get involved—popped a DVD into the player. Settling down on Alex’s other side, she handed the remote to her husband.

“Hey, you’ll like this one” Jeremiah insisted as he hit ‘play’.

The movie—an old black-and-white affair from the 1950s—started up in typical melodramatic fashion, with the film’s title, _‘Black Mercy’_ , appearing on the screen through a fog-covered landscape, but as the credits appeared on screen, Alex found herself suddenly sitting up.

“Hey, pause it” she said.

“What is it?” Eliza asked as Jeremiah did as asked.

“There,” Alex pointed to the screen “Astra Inze,” she read “that was the woman’s name, the woman from tonight, that was her name” she explained.

“Are you sure?” Jeremiah asked.

“Positive” Alex insisted.

Jeremiah let out a low impressed whistle.

“Wow, thought she was dead,” he remarked “she used to be a big star back in the day. Man, she was popular, had a big career” he explained.

“Didn’t she try her hand at directing too?” Eliza wondered.

“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded “yeah, at the height of her career, she wrote and directed a couple of ‘serious’ films,” he made air quotes on the word ‘serious’ “which sadly bombed, she got typecast, so I guess a lot of people didn’t think that a B-horror movie actress had what it took to be a serious director”

“Then there was some kind of scandal too,” Eliza nodded “I forget the details, but whatever it was, it killed her career entirely”

“Nobody would hire her after whatever happened,” Jeremiah added “and then she just…faded away”

“That’s…sad” Alex realized softly as Jeremiah started the movie again. And as the credits continued rolling, Alex found herself thinking back to the woman she’d met earlier tonight, a woman who had seemed to be utterly terrified of her…


	2. Fall From Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter TWO! Enjoy! :=)

******

The movie had been surprisingly good, Alex could see how Astra Inze had gained a following; her performance as the film’s damsel in distress had been nail-biting; she had been able to convey her character’s thoughts and feelings with only a quirk of an eyebrow or the twist of a lip.

Getting to bed, Alex found she couldn’t sleep and, grabbing her laptop, had logged on-line and Googled Astra Inze, finding a fansite dedicated to her. Clicking on the link, she found a very detailed and neatly arranged site.

Clicking on the ‘about her’, Alex found herself smirking as she read the information.

Astra Inze had been born in Eastern Europe, but moved with her parents to the States when she was two. In 1960--at the age of nineteen--she’d been spotted by a talent scout and given a small role in a relatively obscure—and now lost—horror film produced by a small, independent film company, ‘CatCo Worldwide Studios’, where she displayed a remarkable skill and talent for acting despite not having any prior experience.

Following that, she’d quickly become one of CatCo’s top stars, and favorite of the studio’s founder—and top director—C. Grant, who Alex was surprised to find out, was a woman.

Although CatCo’s films were largely horror films, Astra Inze had seemed to enjoy her work, throwing herself into the roles, playing damsels, murderesses, and femme fatals, often becoming the star of the films even if she wasn’t actually the star.

Then, in late-‘60s, just as career was reaching its height, she’d quietly turned to writing and directing, with CatCo Studios producing most of her films. But, most of those films were poorly received, the films focus on woman’s rights and controversial issues such as rape and domestic abuse as well as their writer and director’s status as a former horror film star had led to their being critically panned by the ‘serious’ film critics (however the fansite alleged that most of the films were excellent works of art).

Then to add insult to injury, in the wake of the bad reviews, Astra Inze had been arrested during a police raid on an unground lesbian club. The scandal that the controversial actress-turned-director was also gay had been the final nail in the coffin for her career. She had promptly disappeared from the public eye, she no longer gave interviews or made appearances, and any fanmail sent was either sent back or not responded to.

No photographs of her past the end of her career were known to exist. In effect, she was effectively as dead as her career.

Leaning back, Alex frowned as she digested this new information. Spotting the borrowed clothes she’d been given, she decided to go back to that lonely house tomorrow morning.

If anything, she needed to return the clothes…


	3. Old Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter THREE! Enjoy! :=)

******

Alex had stayed up half the night scouring the fansite and the rest of the internet for any more information relating to Astra Inze, finding that the woman had a rather sizable fanbase on the World Wide Web. Some were people who had grown up watching her films, whereas others had, like Alex, been introduced to her films on home media and had become enraptured by the mystique surrounding the woman, with many comparing Astra’s sudden disappearance to that of pinup model Bettie Page.

A search about CatCo Studios had revealed that the studio had declared bankruptcy and closed down sometime in the early-‘70s, a mixture of poor investments, changing tastes in moviegoers, and—most significantly—the loss of their top star. It’s founder and top director, Catherine ‘Cat’ Grant—working under the name ‘C. Grant’—had also dropped off the radar, but not as severally as Astra had it seemed, she was listed as living with her son, one Carter Grant, somewhere in National City.

Pulling her car to a stop along the same empty stretch of road that she’d been stuck on the previous night, Alex examined the house as she got out of the car.

The lonely house looked only a little less lonely in the daylight. A cluster of roses and other climbing plants crawled around the shoulder-high brick wall and the house itself, giving the otherwise empty and somewhat gloomy-looking neighborhood a splash of color. The house itself was clearly being maintained, lovingly so at that.

Pressing the buzzer by the gate, Alex patiently waited for an answer. Looking up at the door, she watched as one of the curtains flicked back before a buzz sounded from the box and the gate unlocked.

Walking up the drive, she reached the porch and, raising her hand, knocked.

The door swung open a few seconds later, Non standing on the other side.

“Ms. Danvers,” he greeted, his tone and expression neutral yet pleasant “please,” he held the door open “come in”

“Oh, thanks,” Alex shrugged as she cautiously stepped over the threshold and into the house “actually, I just came back to return these.” she held out the bundle of freshly-washed clothes.

“Of course,” Non took them from her “would you care for some coffee?” he offered.

“Oh, no, thanks,” Alex shook her head “I really should be…” she trailed off as Non held up a hand.

“Please, I insist” he cut her off, and something in his tone made her think that he was begging her to stay.

Alex frowned, the temptation to learn more about Astra getting the better of her.

“Sure,” she nodded “why not”

******

The kitchen—like the rest of the house it seemed—was small and modest, clearly designed more for practicality and comfort rather than opulence. Seated at a nice, large kitchen island, coffee mug cradled in her hands, was Astra Inze herself. She visibly tensed as Alex followed Non into the room, her eyes narrowing as she carefully, silently, tracked Alex’s every move.

“Astra,” Non gestured to Alex “you remember our guest from last night?”

“I do” she nodded. Seeing her up close, Alex had to admit that either Astra had aged gracefully or had a very good surgeon, but something told her that she wasn’t the type. Although there were clear signs of lines and wrinkles on her face and hands, they were less defined than Alex had seen on some Astra’s age, and Astra’s eyes were still bright and clear, she still had all her marbles.

Still watching Alex with a critical, suspicious eye, Astra quickly finished her coffee and then, without another word, swiftly marched out of the room.

“Sit down, Ms. Danvers,” Non invited, gesturing to a chair as he set up the coffeemaker “and the word you’re looking for is ‘agoraphobia’,” he added as she sat down “from the Greek”

“Sorry?” Alex blinked.

Non nodded in the direction that Astra had disappear in.

“Agoraphobia,” he repeated “from Greek ‘agora’ referring to a wide, open-air market or public space. It means a fear of being outside” he explained.

“So _that’s_ why she disappeared” Alex muttered.

“I see you’ve looked her up,” Non chuckled as he passed her a steaming mug of coffee and the cream and sugar “yes, it wasn’t the sole reason, but it a…result of her…dethronement if you will”

“The scandal” Alex nodded.

“Partly, yes” Non nodded.

“So…,” Alex frowned and glanced back over her shoulder at where Astra had disappeared to “she hasn’t left this place since the ‘60s?”

“Where would she go?” Non mused rhetorically “back out to a world that despises and fears her? A world where people like her are beaten simply for loving some of the same gender?”

“It’s not like that anymore” Alex objected.

“I know that,” Non nodded “you know that. Even she knows that. But…,” he paused and sighed as he took a sip of coffee “as they say; _‘old wounds die hard’_ , eh?”

“There’s more to it than that,” Alex shook her head “I mean, yeah the arrest and scandal were probably horribly traumatic, but…,” she shook her head again “I don’t buy it, there’s more”

Non chuckled.

“Quite astute, Ms. Danvers,” he noted “wait here” he stood up and left the room for a minute, coming back a few minutes later carrying a photo album which he set down on the island opened, flipping to a photo of a young Astra standing next to a woman looked exactly like her minus the streak of white in her head.

“Twins?” Alex asked.

“Her sister, Alura,” Non nodded “turn the page” he instructed.

Frowning, Alex turned the page, finding a faded and yellowed newspaper clipping, feeling her stomach twist as she read the headline.

**LOCAL WOMAN BRUTALLY MURDERED**

‘ _Alura Zorel and her husband were both found brutally murdered in their home earlier this evening_ ’, it continued ‘ _the identical twin sister of disgraced film star Astra Inze, it appears that both Mrs. Zorel and her husband were assaulted by a home invader. Some sources within the police allege that the brutal murder may have been a tragic case of mistaken identity and that Astra Inze may had been the intended target._ ’

‘ _In a related story, the couple’s twelve year-old daughter—and only survivor of the home invasion—has been declared a ward of the state, with a local judge denying Astra Inze custody of her niece owning to her ‘scandalous and deviant lifestyle’_ ’.

Alex sat back, filling a chill go through her.

“ _That’s_ why” Non said softly.

“Where’s her niece now?” Alex wondered.

Non shrugged.

“Who knows,” he sighed “she and Astra never spoke much after Astra’s arrest, and Astra was denied access to her after her parents’ murder. Wherever she is, we haven’t heard from her”

“And what’s your story?” Alex wondered.

Non smirked.

“Astra and I are friends,” he answered “we worked together at CatCo. And…I daresay I’m one of the few people who stood by her after the arrest and the murder” he explained.

“But why are you being so…open?” Alex pushed.

Something dark crossed Non’s face for a moment.

“Because,” he began “Astra can’t go on like this, not anymore. You saw the news about the Supreme Court uphold same-sex marriage?” she nodded “the world won’t fear her anymore,” he declared.

He stood up.

“I need to check on her,” he explained “you’re welcome to stay as long as you like” he invited…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of too young to remember, 'Bettie Page' was a pinup model in the '50s/'60s. Known for her various bondage and fetish-themed photos, she became center to an obscenity trial led--in part--by Estes Kefauver, a politician from Tennessee (which was also, ironically, where Bettie Page herself was from). At the end of the trial photographer Irving Klaw--who was also a close friend of Page's--was given a choice; he could either go to jail or destroy the photos, taking option two he destroyed most of the negatives, however a few were saved by his sister Paula, who was the one who actually took the photos and, naturally, didn't want to see all her hard work go up in smoke. As a result only a select number of photos of Page are known to exist.
> 
> Adding to the mystique, following her retirement from modeling, Page refused to give interviews or pose for photos, meaning that those few photos that Paula Klaw saved from the flames are some of the only ones of Bettie left ever (although in the early-90s she did do a few interviews following a rediscovery of her).
> 
> Following her retirement, Page converted to Christianity, working as a missionary for Billy Graham. In October of 1978 she had a nervous breakdown in Southern California and had an altercation with her landlady, after which she was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. It was because of this that some of her fans think is the reason why she became such a recluse.
> 
> As for agoraphobia, although its often said to be a 'fear of the outside or open spaces', its actually more a fear that 'one's environment is unsafe whith no easy way to escape', in extreme cases sufferers cannot even keave their own homes. Poet Emily Dickinson is rumored to have suffered from it, never leaving her home and even 'attending' her father;s funeral through a crack in the door. Howard Hughes and Drayl Hannah also siuffer from it. It's believed to be caused by a combination of genetic and envriomental factors, and stressful events, such as the death of a loved one or an attack can trigger it

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought :=)


End file.
